The Gospel According to John

Another Bit of Catch-Up

A few terrific things on these interwebs that you should be aware of.

+Okay, this one's not from the intertubes, but it's terrific. The latest print edition of TV Guide's logline for the Matthew Perry/Salma Hayek movie Fools Rush In: "A New York WASP marries a feisty, pregnant Latina." Oh DEAR. (Thanks, Deidre)

+This needs to become a thing, in the way that Dorks Dressing Up as Frankenfurter and Going to See Rocky Horror at Midnight is. I've never understood the big deal with Rocky Horror Picture Show is, but regular nostalgic audience participation viewings of Troop Beverly Hills? THAT is a different thing entirely, and it is a thing that we need, as a culture, and as a planet. That is all. 

+So the voiceover actress that played the girl with Down's Syndrome on that episode of Family Guy (which wasn't funny, not because it was offensive, but simply because it wasn't funny) that has Sarah Palin crying in her coffee because it's okay for Rush Limbaugh to make fun of retarded people but not other folks? Well, she has Down's Syndrome for real, thinks the Family Guy bit was just a joke so just fucking lighten up already, and, best of all, totally played Corky's girlfriend Amanda on Life Goes On. Comebacks!

+I am conflicted about this. It's mostly bullshit but he's got a point but what a bloviating windbag but still kind of? See, conflicted!

+James Cameron, the director of Toddlenator, Babliens, Toddlenator 2, The Babyss, and Titaby, has finally finished his seminal masterpiece that will change Hollywood forever: Bavatar. Oscar, please.

+Speaking of movies, so many of them are racist!

+Wait. Remember Hole? Were they always this terrible and we were too enamored of grunge to notice?

+YES. Maybe SNL will actually be funny for once. Do you suppose, though, that even with her hosting if it's still as ploddingly unfunny as it has been lately that it will be the straw the breaks the camel's back and, like, the Earth will shift off its axis or something?

+Here is a McDonald's value meal made of Legos.

*curtsies*

Today's Vocational Lesson: Teevee News with Charlie Brooker

Judging from the fact that it was literally the only thing on all the local stations ALL DAY long I'm assuming you heard that we had a "blizzard" here in New York on Wednesday. I cannot emphasize those scare quotes enough. This was not a blizzard, it was a

"blizzard."

I mean seriously.

I don't know how much snow we ended up actually getting, but I also don't care, because it:

A--was nowhere near what was forecast (12-20")
2--caused a total of NONE problems
iii--after one day in the mid-30s, is almost entirely gone already.

Worth pre-empting an entire day's rosters of soap operas that crazy people in the South and the abandoned elderly and my friend Miss Kate cannot live without? Absolutely not. And yet the idiots on the TV were apoplectic, banging on about it incessantly, running around as if DC-level blizzardry were battering our fair shores. It was unbelievably vexing and made me want to punch myself in the testes.

But there's a fundamental difference between those idiots on the news and me: they get paid gobs of money for being idiots on the news, and I do not.

Luckily, the Baby Blizzard Jesus logged onto these internets and lo, there appeared a lovely British man to sublimate my rage into a new life's direction, to teach me how I, too, can become a handsomely paid idiot on the news.

Fall TV Preview Part Two/Revisited, Or: How to Fail in the TV Business By Really, Really Trying,

Remember those halcyon days when NBC seemed on top of the world? Remember Must See TV? Seinfeld, Friends, Will & Redhead Who Thinks She's Lucille Ball But Is Actually Not Particularly Funny at All But Just Blessed with Great Writing and Surrounded by Actors Vastly More Talented Than She That Make Her Look Good, and Hospital Drama That Was On a Good 37 Years Longer Than Necessary Because It Stopped Being Interesting After Clooney Left?

Remember that? Even the shitty shows, like that Kirstie Alley one about the lingerie business (remember that?) and that Christina Applegate one (no recollection of what it was about and if you tell me you do without Googling it I'll not believe you), were still kinda fun. They just sorta faded into the background of the lineup, you know? *sings like Edith Bunker* Those were the days. 

Fall TV Preview

You all need to understand that I am three things: glamorous, powerful and important. And so, during my time is Los Angeleeez, I had the mixed fortune of being shown super-secret industry copies of five! Count ‘em five! new shows this fall season. Two of them were great, one of them has potential, one of them will send you into guffawing hysterics f you’re an uptight Republican offended by any of the less family-friendly aspects of a television comedy that make it actually entertaining for anyone other than easily offended Republicans, and, finally, one of them was a giant piece of steaming shit.

unsere Dame der intergalaktischen Großartigkeit!!!!!

Die ewige Großartigkeit von ist ihr der kosmischen Wohltätigkeit weltweit erkannt worden und hat seine Weise in das Herz von Heidi Klum gebildet! 

Sagte Klum: "In der Welt von Art und Weise, sind Sie entweder innen, oder Sie sind heraus. Victoria ist innen. Andere können das runway." 

Who Needs E When There's the TV Guide Channel?

So, as previously mentioned (long-windedly), this Sunday is the Oscars! Wee! And we all know that the best part of the Oscars is not celebrating filmic excellence, but making fun of people on the red carpet!

Am I right?

And, as any American with his priorities in order knows, E! is the place to go for red carpet coverage. But not anymore. Trust me on this. Forgo the E! and click on down to the TV Guide Network.

After all, why would you watch cock-obsessed muppet Ryan Seacrest and Skeletor McMarried-to-that-dude-from-The-Apprentice on E!, when TV Guide Network’s coverage is hosted by a laboratory-made hybrid?

Dear Joaquin Phoenix: Why?

Okay, hi: WHAT IN THE HELL IS GOING ON WITH JOEQUINN PHOENIX.

Seriously. First there was the whole “I’m quitting acting” thing, which is just stupid and narcissistic because:

A—It attempts to make a statement about how NOT narcissistic he is—“Look at me, I’m so beyond Hollywood, it’s so empty, you know? And I’m so much more than that,” which is, well, narcissistic. And stupid.

B—It assumes we care (which we do, but that’s beside the point), which is very narcissistic and also just stupid.

So we’re already starting off kind of, you know…ugh. But then on top of it, there’s his “rap” career, as evidenced here, which is a giant tub of “yikes” and makes you do that sort of wince thing that you do when someone is making a GIANT fool of his/herself, such as the other day when some dumbshit NYU tart crossed the street in front of me wearing SHINY LEGGINGS. No, I’m not kidding. SHINY LEGGINGS. With STIRRUPS. Or, you know, like the latest pictorial of Madonna Ciccone-Penn-Ritchie and a radiant WWF in W magamazine. Or like Jennifer Aniston saying—PUBLICLY—that she has old tapes of Brad Pitt’s answering machine messages that she listens to now and again for nostalgia’s sake.

You know the sort of reaction I mean. It’s that wince and sharp inhale through your teeth that says, “Oh HONEY. Honey NO.” You know that wince?

Right, well that’s what Joequinn’s rapping inspires. S’not good. It’s a MOUNTAIN of s’not good. And as I’m sure you know, every mountain has its peak, its pinnacle, its apex. And this one is no exception.

What To Do This Christmas When You Feel Like Killing Your Family or, Failing That, Yourself

Ahh, Christmas. A time when people we don't like fly in from places we can't stand and make us do things we don't want to do in the name of celebrating the birth of a religious figure that was probably actually born in June.

S'nice.

Personally, I'll be spending mine soaked in liquor with Gospel readers Donna and Miss Kate (who is, sadly, trapped on a bus in the Lincoln Tunnel at the moment; send her good chi), gorging myself on Trader Joe's Peppermint JoJo's, egg nog with bourbon in, and a ham dinner that would put your mother's to shame while watching A Christmas Story and Home For the Holidays, starring my boyfriend, Robert Downey Jr.

But that's me.

OMFG 30 ROCK!!!

GASP!!!

HOLY FUCKING SHITFUCK!!!! THEY PUT 30 ROCK ON THE INTERWEBS A WHOLE WEEK EARLY!!!!

Life has meaning again! It's like the Baby Jesus came and gave us a big comedic kiss!

And there's a huge guest star!

And Tina looks all pretty!

And I've only watched 5 minutes and there's already a quotable quote!:

"Keep your friends close, and your enemies so close you’re almost kissing."

Here we go!

Can I hide this box of penis pasta in your dressing room?

NOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!

Life has officially lost all meaning. When the fucking Golden Girls start dying, I just fail to see any use. In anything. I mean, this is a woman who inspired a certain friend of mine you may remember from this post to dress up with two girlfriends as Blanche, Rose and Dorothy, and dress her gay, Jewish Scottish terrier, Bruce, as Sophia Petrillo for Halloween one year. That sort of brilliance isn't inspired by just anyone. I assure you. 

What a weird week so far. Not to make it about me, but...this is my goddamn blog so I'll write what I want. 

Yesterday was the sixth anniversary of my bestest-ever friend, Michael Scott Hunter, passing to another dimension--a dimension where cigarettes, ranch dressing, horrifically inappropriate comments like "I know everyone loves her and all, but lemme tell you something about that drippy cunt...," grotesquely over-enunciated French words inserted into sentences at random, homemade cocktails so strong they taste like jet fuel and turn your stomach just slightly, and really, really, really, REEEALLY ugly orange capri pants are the stuff that perfection is made of. 

And now, not 24 hours later, Sophia Petrillo is no more. It's all so melancholy. But I do quite like the idea of Michael and Estelle sharing a drink and a chat in heaven, or whatever happens to be beyond this physical earth. Because if anyone up there has been successful in befriending the legendary Sophia Petrillo in her short few hours (so far) of residency in the beyond, it is Michael--of this you can be sure.

Yes, there is no doubt that if there is a ringleader in the beyond--the most popular girl in school, the Marcia Brady of heaven--Michael Scott Hunter's your man. And within moments of Estelle's arrival--at 84, no doubt shuffling through the pearly gates, just as Sophia would have done--I am quite sure that Michael swooped in--homemade cigarette in one elegantly pudgy hand, the other pushing his glasses up to the bridge of his nose with his thumb on one lens corner and middle finger on the other, voluminous belly carried before him like a prize, wearing the aforementioned hideous--but like HIDEOUS--orange capris and some sort of ridiculous metallic button-down--draped an arm around Estelle, and loudly exclaimed, "Estelle! Welcome!" and then, lowering his voice and looking down at her over the tops of his glasses, murmured, "You want to hang with me. That fucking bitch Shelley Winters will probably come up to you in the cafeteria and try to play the 'actress' card--'oh, fucking hang out with me cuz I'm an actress too and we can bond *makes lewd masturbation motion with non-cigarette-holding hand* meh meh meh meh meh,' but let me tell you something, since the day that fat, loud-mouthed bitch got up in here everyone has been bitching a blue streak because ALLLL she fucking TALKS about is the fucking Diary of Anne Frank movie that she won an Oscar for--because it's SUCH a big DEAL cuz NO ONE wins an Oscar, it's not like they just HAND them out or whatever, and any award you share with Marisa Tomei and Jennifer Hudson and fucking Romy from Romy and Michele's High School Reunion is the HEIGHT of prestige, I mean who the fuck is that bitch even kidding? but you know what Shelley Winters movie was good was The Poseidon Adventure. 

"But anyway if she's not crowing about her Oscar then she's going on and on about how she was in the same acting classes as Marlon Brando and blah blah blah blah blah blah and everyone's like 'SHELLEY. SHUT THE FUCK UP.' Seriously, Esti--can I call you Esti?--NOBODY likes that bitch, and that's the truth. Oh my God you should have SEEN her and Bette Davis the other night at the putt putt course! Oh my God, Davis hates that bitch more than Joan Crawford, I shit you not! She wanted to play through, and Winters wouldn't get out of the way, and so she hauled off and DRAGGED HER AWAY by the hair! It was amazing! Anyway. So just stick with me and my crew. That's them over there--yeah, see them waving?--River Phoenix--hot right?--and, between you and me, he ALWAYS has pot--Lisa Left-Eye Lopez--she's from TLC, I don't know if you know them but that bitch is crazy in a good way--and that guy from Suddenly Susan that offed himself, he's really funny--and we totally made out a couple times, but don't say anything cuz he's SUPER senstive about it--and sometimes Tupac rolls with us--oh, which reminds me: did you know that that whole thing about Elvis still being alive and well and hiding on an island somewhere is TRUE?! Can you believe it?! He's totally not up here!--and, of course, Nell Carter, who is like my best friend up here, seriously, we're really tight--those are the people I roll with. We're pretty A-list up here, and you are nothing if not A-list so you'll fit right in. So come on and I'll introduce you. Ooh--I just thought of something! I'm writing, composing, directing, and choreographing a romantic comedy musical wherein Paul Rudd leaves his wife and runs away to Barcelona to be with me, his true love. You would be really good as my grandmother. So tell me, what's Rue McClanahan like? Can I offer you a cigarette?"

They're most likely eating cheesecake and playing Trivial Pursuit on God's Lanai as we speak. 

So don't worry about Estelle. She's in very, very good hands. 

By way of bidding a fond farewell--but most definitely not a goodbye--I offer you the following retrospectives of our adorable Sophia Petrillo. Enjoy.

And who could forget:

And, best of all:

But really, can there be any better goodbye than this?: